Chapter Seventy-Five: The First Report of Victory

After eliminating Gao Yanshou, who would have become a high-ranking commander of Goguryeo in the future, Li Kong did not continue entangling with this group of cavalry. Leading his own riders, he broke through the enemy phalanx and then spurred his horse, galloping away at full speed.

Having lost the command of Gao Yanshou and suffered more than half its soldiers killed or wounded—especially after the casualties incurred during the day—the remaining Goguryeo troops amounted to little more than a thousand dispirited barbarians, milling about like headless flies.

Before they could recover their wits, Liu Rengui led his cavalry in a thunderous charge, harvesting heads like reaping melons and cutting vegetables.

Half an hour later, the battle was over. Except for three hundred prisoners who knelt and begged for mercy, the rest were all slain.

Surveying the battlefield littered with corpses and smoldering smoke, Liu Rengui’s gaze flickered as he watched the dust cloud raised by Li Kong’s departure. He asked in a low voice, “Does anyone know who commands the troops ahead?”

“We’re not sure yet,” a deputy replied, “but I do have some doubts. Why did they not join forces with us before striking together? Judging from the corpses, they too left behind over a hundred men. If we had united our troops…”

“You’re mistaken!” Liu Rengui interrupted before the deputy could finish, his voice deep. “That man is a true commander. He acted for two reasons: first, to catch Goguryeo off guard with a surprise attack; second, he is testing me. Just wait and see, perhaps my own moment of glory is about to arrive.”

As he finished, a hint of gratitude flashed in Liu Rengui’s eyes. He was determined to discover Li Kong’s true identity and see if he could attach himself to such a promising figure.

The darkness earlier made it hard to see clearly, but he could tell Li Kong was very young. For someone so young to command an army alone, his future was beyond measure. Loyalty, after all, must be pledged early. If Li Kong’s power became unshakable in the future, it would be too late for Liu Rengui to gain anything by switching allegiance.

The deputy did not understand these thoughts, so he simply shook his head and stayed silent.

...

After a relentless three-hundred-li ride, as dawn approached, Li Kong and his cavalry reached a spot less than ten li from Ji City. Finding a concealed place, they began to rest and recover. At the same time, Li Kong needed to report the night’s battle to Chang’an—partly to claim his due credit, and partly to reassure both the capital and the entire Tang Dynasty, preventing needless anxiety.

Now near Ji City, they had entered the region where the main Goguryeo forces were most active. Whether infantry or cavalry, their troops advanced steadily southward, with Shandong as their target.

Li Kong gathered this information from surviving Tang people in the area while drafting his victory dispatch. Though not comprehensive, it was enough to see the gravity of the current situation.

After finishing his report, Li Kong, accompanied by several guards and his deputy, climbed a high ridge. From afar, they gazed at a formation of Goguryeo soldiers, his face marked by an unconcealable gravity.

“General, what should we do next?” one of the deputies asked, eyes wavering—clearly shaken by the sight before them.

Li Kong sneered. “Afraid?”

“I’m not afraid,” the deputy gritted out, “but I’m worried we won’t be able to stop the advance of these Goguryeo barbarians!”

“Don’t worry—they won’t be jumping around for long. Let everyone rest well today. Tonight, we’ll charge straight into the enemy’s heart—I intend to set their core ablaze!”

The boldness of Li Kong’s plan stunned his followers into silence.

Raiding behind enemy lines was unprecedented in this era; except for assassins, no army had ever attempted such a thing. It was far too difficult, and even more dangerous.

Yet, after last night’s victory, their confidence in Li Kong had grown immensely—if not absolute, then at least unshakable.

Thus, when night fell, they skirted the Great Wall, heading straight for Shanhai Pass north of Ji City.

Beyond Shanhai Pass lay Yingguan, only a hundred li from Liaodong City—truly the heartland of Goguryeo. At this point, there was no longer any possibility of retreat: they would either fight their way to glory or perish to the last man.

Following Li Kong’s strategy, they moved by night and hid by day, advancing for three consecutive days until they finally reached the outskirts of Shanhai Pass. Before them, nestled between two peaks, stood a low fortress. A hint of bloodlust shone in Li Kong’s eyes.

There was no other road through—though Shanhai Pass was still unfinished, not yet as imposing as in the Ming Dynasty, and the Great Wall did not reach here. Yet, the strategic value of this spot was undeniable. The only reason it remained underdeveloped was that, until now, no dynasty had managed to cultivate the desolate Youzhou region.

The impoverished Liaodong area was a tasteless morsel for any dynasty—too valuable to abandon, but not worth much if kept. It served only as a buffer zone against northern barbarians, nothing more.

“General, are we to storm the fortress?” the deputy whispered at Li Kong’s side.

Li Kong glanced at him, then replied, “Send a few men to scout the situation inside. Once we have more information, we’ll decide our next step.”

The deputy acknowledged the order, arranging for several soldiers to change out of their uniforms and don attire stripped from captured Goguryeo soldiers. Disguised, they set out from the camp toward Shanhai Pass.

Meanwhile, in Chang’an.

The turbulence and smoke of war at the frontier had yet to reach the capital. Life went on as usual; only a handful paid attention to the border’s fate.

But within the Taiji Palace, Emperor Li Shimin was nearly beside himself.

In the Ganlu Hall, the dining table was laden with dishes. Empress Zhangsun sat in silence, cradling her rice bowl. Li Shimin’s face was flushed red as he looked at his daughter, Li Lizhi, at a loss for words.

Li Lizhi pouted with worry, gripping her father’s arm tightly. “I just want to know if Brother Kong is still alive. Father, can’t you even find out this much?”

“Changle, that’s Liaodong—your father, I… I really don’t know,” Li Shimin finally managed after a long pause. “But don’t worry. Yunfeng will be all right. I know his martial skills—he’ll be fine, I’m sure of it!” Yet his words were empty reassurance.

Li Shimin now regretted sending Li Kong away. Since his departure, Li Lizhi asked about him every day. He, a doting father to the extreme, simply could not bear to see his daughter upset and had no idea how to comfort her.

A kind lie? Li Shimin knew well that Li Lizhi would see right through it.

With a soft snort, Li Lizhi flicked her sleeves and sat down, tapping her chopsticks against her bowl as tears welled in her large eyes and soon fell in streams, making Li Shimin’s heart ache.

Just then, a cry rang out from outside the hall: “Victory at the frontier! Commandant Li Kong of the Eagle Guard has led his forces to slay over three thousand Goguryeo soldiers…”